The Encampment

by Edward Kendrick

  “If you say sleep,” Davie replied with a frown.

  Vin chuckled. “Well, we do, but that’s not where I was going. I don’t have any protection.”

  “Then it’s good thing I stopped by a drop-in place before ending up at the Encampment.” Davie went to get a hygiene kit from his back pack. “We don’t have to, you know, go all the way,” he said, settling on the bed again. “But a blowjob would be…umm…”

  “A way to start?” Vin replied with a trace of amusement.

  “Well, yeah?” Davie put his hand over Vin’s very obvious erection which was tenting his sweatpants. “It would be easier if we were naked.”

  It took no time at all for that to happen, then Davie sheathed both their cocks before straddling Vin so they could go down on each other. He gasped when Vin began sucking, every nerve tingling with need. Taking Vin’s cock into his mouth, he ran his teeth lightly over it, then his tongue, before drawing it all the way in amid low groans from his…Lover? Not really. A friend who wants what I do? Yeah. Release from all the tensions. He had the feeling that was the truth and it didn’t really bother him—too much.

  They came at almost the same time, as silently as possible given there were undoubtedly guys in the rooms on either side of them. When his heart stopped pounding and he could think clearly, Davie rolled off Vin, turning to put his arms around him. “Not bad for a first time,” he quipped, not wanting Vin to know it meant more to him than he might like.

  “I’m not complaining,” Vin said, giving him a quick kiss. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” He stripped off both their condoms, knotted them, and headed to the door.

  “Guess that’s all it was to him. Tension relief,” Davie said under his breath when he thought Vin had left. He curled up, burying his head on his arms. He jumped when he felt the edge of the bed sink as Vin sat down beside him.

  “No, it was more than that,” Vin said softly. “It was two guys who care about each other and showed it. I think you’re crazy for wanting to hook up with me, if you do. Chances are you’ll regret it, but for now I’m going to take what I can get, and I don’t mean just sex.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Davie replied. “If this—” he pointed at the two of them, “—ends when we finish what we’re doing for Slade…Well, shit happens. I don’t think it will. I do care for you, so we’ll see.”

  “Yeah, we will.” Vin kissed his temple then got up. This time he did leave the room, returning a few minutes later with a damp rag that he used to clean Davie up. Then he slipped into bed, spooning with him, and they fell asleep.

  Chapter 8

  Davie and Vin left the shelter Monday morning after breakfast. Before they did, however, Carson took them aside.

  “These are for you,” he said, handing them each very used-looking phones.

  “I already have one,” Davie told him.

  “Then give it to me, please. You’ll get it back when this is over. If you keep it and things go the way we hope, the slavers will take it and you’ll never see it again.

  “Not that it’s worth anything,” Davie replied sourly. “The battery’s dead and I lost the charger months ago.” Still, he handed over his phone. Vin shrugged and dug his out of his pocket, giving it to Carson.

  “You need these because they won’t believe you don’t own one,” Carson explained. “I’ve rarely met a street kid who didn’t and I’m sure it’s the same for them. More than that, though, these have an added feature. If…no, when you make a connection with them and they hire you, press the pound button. That way we’ll know it’s a go.”

  “And start tracking us?” Davie asked.

  “Yes. Okay, that’s it. Stay safe.”

  “Damned sure going to try,” Vin replied, hefting his backpack over his shoulders.

  Davie did the same and they took off.

  * * * *

  “Well today was a bust,” Davie said late that evening.

  He and Vin had spent the day in the most rundown area of the city he’d ever been to, splitting their time between the soup kitchens and the day labor place. They’d wound it up by going to the local shelter where they stood in line with dozens other guys who hoped to get a bed for the night. Some succeeded, others didn’t, including Vin and Davie. But then they didn’t want to.

  “I’d rather sleep behind a smelly Dumpster than take my chances in there,” Davie had whispered at one point when he and Vin had stepped out of line so Davie could kneel to ostensibly retie his bootlaces.

  Of course that meant they had to go to the back of the line again as guys crowded forward to take their place—which was what they wanted. As soon as the man letting kids in announced that the shelter was full Vin said, “I know a safe spot, if it’s still there.” He barely cracked a grin, adding, “And it’s not by a smelly Dumpster.”

  It wasn’t by a Dumpster, but it definitely wasn’t the Ritz, either, as Davie found out when Vin led him down an alley to a broken window, covered on the inside by a piece of plywood. Vin gave Davie a thumbs-up before he pushed on the wood. It came loose, hanging by one nail while the other corner banged on the floor. “Wait here,” he whispered before disappearing into what Davie presumed was a basement.

  He was correct. A moment later Vin came back to the window. “We’re good. Watch the glass.”

  Davie did, then waited while Vin moved the board back the way it had been, using a piece of brick to pound two nails into the wall to secure it again.

  “I can’t see a damned thing,” Davie muttered just as Vin flicked on a lighter. It gave off enough light for them to move across the debris-strewn floor to a door on the far side of the room. Vin opened it, revealing a second room. Telling Davie to wait, Vin crossed it and a moment later two candles flickered to life.

  “Better?” Vin asked.

  “Much.” Davie looked around. It was obvious the room had been used as a squat more than once, from the empty cans and crumpled up food wrappers. Thankfully, at the moment they were the only two there. “Should we be worried about other guys showing up?” he asked.

  “If they do, this place is big enough they can stick around as long as they’re not looking for trouble.”

  Davie nodded, moving closer to the candles to spread out his blanket. He saw there were more candles, stuck in melted wax in a couple of spots around the room. “All the comforts of home,” he said wryly.

  Vin settled beside him. “Not really, but it works and we’ll know if anyone else comes in. The board is a good early-warning system.”

  “Think we’ll have better luck tomorrow?” Davie asked, curling up beside Vin.

  “Let’s hope. Every second I’m out there…” Vin shook his head, reaching across Davie to pinch out the candle flames.

  “You think some of your dad’s guys could still be around looking for you?”

  “Let’s say it’s possible, even though it’s been a year. Maybe not looking, but if the word is out that I used to hang around this area, which you can bet it is, and someone spots me, it’ll definitely screw up why we’re here to begin with.”

  “Anyone tries to grab you, they’ll have to deal with me,” Davie replied harshly.

  Vin smiled, giving him a hug. “That’s my tough guy. I don’t think it’ll happen, though. I look a lot different than I did back then.”

  “Hell, you look different than you did a couple of days ago. Not sure I’d recognize you now, to be honest.”

  “Then stop worrying, okay?” Davie nodded, saying he would, even though he knew it wasn’t the truth. Vin cocked an eyebrow. “I mean it, Davie. Everything’s going to be fine. We’ll get in with those bastards, pass the info on to Slade, and be gone before anyone who might care knows I’m back.”

  Not what he said a minute ago, but yeah, I’ll believe him. Davie rested his head on Vin’s shoulder, when Vin put his blanket over them. “We’d better get some sleep.”

  “Yeah.” Vin kissed his temple, pulled him close which worked for Davie on several levels as i
t said Vin cared for him—and it helped ward off the chill in the basement. Soon, Davie was asleep.

  * * * *

  Breakfast Tuesday morning consisted of what Davie and Vin scrounged from the trash behind a cheap diner a block from where they’d slept. Afterward, they went to the day labor outfit, where dozens of men of all ages waited hopefully to be chosen to work that day. Some of them had given their names to the man running the place. Others sat on the benches or pavement outside, watching the trucks or vans that pulled up in front. Each time that happened, a man would get out, look over the assembly, point to three or more of the men, and then gesture for them to get into their vehicle. Men continued to appear, replacing those that had been lucky enough to get work, even if only for the day.

  At one point, a van came to a stop and a rough-looking man got out. He came over to where Davie and Vin were standing with two other street kids.

  “You, you, and you,” the man said, pointing to everyone but Davie.

  “I won’t go without him,” Vin said, slinging his arm over Davie’s shoulders.

  “Then you’re shit out of luck,” the man replied, turning to an older man standing a few feet away. “You.” He thumbed toward the van and the three he’d chosen got in.

  “Are you crazy,” Davie said as soon as they were out of earshot. “He could be one of the ones we’re looking for.”

  “We had a deal,” Vin replied. “It’s both of us or neither.” He glanced at the men still clustered around the building. “Let’s hit up the soup kitchen. Maybe we’ll have better luck.”

  * * * *

  “Guess we’re too early,” Davie said, looking at the men and women sitting or standing or leaning against the walls outside the closed side door of the church.

  Vin shrugged. “Better for us. The people we’re after aren’t going to go inside to recruit workers.”

  “True.”

  They found a place to sit on the wall that separated the church from a house next door.

  “You kids look like you’ve been sleeping rough for a while,” an older woman sitting beside them said. “Just like me.”

  “Like all of us,” the man next to her put in. “The damned city needs to do something.”

  “That would be admitting there’s a problem,” another man said. “It’s easier to ignore us except to make sure we don’t crash or beg where the hoity-toity people can see us.”

  “Here comes the work van,” the first man said, nodding toward the street.

  “The what?” Davie asked as if he didn’t know what the man meant.

  “Two guys who’ll hire you to do hard labor if they think you’re up to it,” the man replied. “Me? I’m too old, they said.”

  The paneled cargo van pulled to a stop. Davie had the feeling whoever was in it were checking out the growing crowd of homeless people waiting for a free meal. A burly man got out, walking over to a guy a bit older than Vin from the look of him. Whatever he said had the guy nodding before he got up and walked to the van. Then the man came toward Davie and Vin.

  “If you want a job, we’re hiring,” the man said, addressing Vin. “We’ll need you for at least a week. It pays minimum wage and we feed you and give you a place to stay until it’s over.”

  Vin acted excited about the offer but said, “Him, too?” putting his hand on Davie’s shoulder.

  The man gave Davie the once-over. “How old are you?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “Prove it.”

  Davie took his battered wallet from his pocket, opening it to show the man his driver’s license—the fake one he’d been given. The real one was under the torn lining at the bottom of his backpack.

  After comparing the photo to Davie’s face, the man said, “Okay. You two buddies?” That question was for Vin.

  “Yeah, we are,” Vin replied.

  The man looked around, muttering, “Not much to choose from today. Okay, get in the van. Both of you.”

  As they walked over to it, Davie whispered to Vin, “Think we hit pay dirt?”

  “Yeah. I already let Carson, or Slade probably, know.” Meaning, Davie was certain, that Vin had pushed the pound key on the phone Carson had given him.

  There were already two other guys in the van, the one who had just been hired, plus a man who looked in his mid-twenties. Davie and Vin got in, sitting on the floor like the others with their backs to the wall since there were no seats. The door closed behind them, throwing the cargo hold into darkness except for a bit of light coming in through the doors’ tinted windows. There was a wall without a window between the hold and the cab.

  “We’re being kidnapped to work in the mines,” the man joked, laughter in his voice. “I’m Ken, by the way.”

  Little does he know—if we’re right about these guys. Not the mines, but…Davie introduced himself and Vin did the same.

  A while later, Davie was definitely beginning to feel claustrophobic and reached for Vin’s hand as the van made another turn—right before it came to a stop. The doors opened and the burly guy said, “Everyone out.”

  Sunlight blinded Davie, so it took him a moment to realize they were parked at the edge of a large corn field, or fields if the narrow lanes between sections meant anything.

  Another man, the driver Davie presumed, joined them. “I need your ID,” he said. “For our records and so we can open bank accounts for you. What you earn will go directly into the bank. We’ll return you ID when the job’s over.”

  “Hang on a second,” Ken said. “I want my money in cash.”

  “We don’t work that way,” the driver said. “Feel free to leave if you want. It’s only ten miles back to the city.”

  Ken hesitated then said, “I guess I can deal.”

  When everyone had handed over their IDs, the burly guy told them to leave their packs in the van. “You’ll get them back when you’re finished for the day,” he said when it seemed as if one of the kids was going to protest. “Not like you’ve got anything of value in them.”

  “Says you,” the kid muttered, earning a glare from the man.

  With that taken care of, they were led into the field and told what they were to do—which was pull weeds.

  “Been there, done that,” Davie said under his breath, thinking of the garden at the Encampment. Looking at the fields, which seemed to go on forever, he knew this would take more than the few hours he’d spent in the garden.

  “I’m your gangmaster,” the burly man told them. “You can call me Butch.”

  “Gangmaster?” one of the teens asked.

  “Yeah. You’re a gang of workers, I’m the master. Now, move it.” Butch pointed to the field.

  “Don’t we get tools?” Ken asked.

  Butch grabbed his hand. “These are your tools.” He looked hard at the others. “Got it?”

  While it was obvious no one liked the idea, they all nodded. After all, what choice did they have? They were a long way from the city and had no ID. At Butch’s order, they set to work. The sun beat down, mosquitoes plagued them, bending to pull the weeds played hell with their backs, if the groans Davie began to hear when they would straighten up and move down a few feet were any indication. He knew his back was feeling the strain. The only relief was the bottles of water Butch brought from the van every once in a while.

  “When do we get to eat?” Ken called out several hours later.

  “When I say you can,” Butch replied, smacking his shoulder.

  Ken whirled around, hands clenched. Seconds later he was bent double, trying to catch his breath after Butch’s fist landed hard on his stomach. “You do what you’re told,” Butch said, looking at the others. “You don’t sass back, you don’t fight back, you work. When I tell you it’s time to quit for the day, then you eat. Understand?”

  Fearfully, everyone nodded.

  Davie knew the day was over when he saw the top of a semi-truck barely visible over the tall rows of corn. The sun was almost down, making any further work impossible.


  Butch told them much the same, gesturing to the edge of the field. “Your accommodations have arrived. Move it if you want supper.”

  When they got to the truck, the back door was rolled up. Two men stood next to it, one holding a club, the other had a box with sandwiches and more water.

  “This is…” one of the younger guys asked, shutting up when the bruiser with the club stepped toward him.

  Sullenly, the guys took a sandwich and water then sat on the ground outside the truck to eat.

  “Okay, bedtime,” Butch announced ten minutes later. “Get in the truck.”

  “What about our backpacks?” one teen asked.

  “I told you, you get them back when the job is done, not before.”

  “You said at the end of the day,” the teen replied.

  “I lied. Want to make something of it?” Butch said, his hands fisting.

  The teen cowered, shaking his head.

  “So far,” Vin murmured after he and Davie climbed in, “it’s going just like we thought, down to the cages.”

  There was a row of them along one wall. “Your own private bedrooms,” Butch said, smirking. “Sleep well.”

  “In these?” Vin said, feigning surprise and dismay.

  “Yeah. Got a problem with it?” the bruiser with the club asked, pounding it against the palm of his hand.

  “No,” Vin muttered, crawling into one of the cages. Davie took the one next to his, grimacing when the bruiser closed and locked the door, as he did with the other ones.

  “What if we gotta pee?” Ken called out.

  “That’s what the can’s for,” Butch replied. Davie saw what he meant and scowled, but kept quiet.

  Moments later Butch and the bruiser climbed out of the truck, pulling the door down, and the last bit of fading sunlight disappeared.

  Davie heard a low sob and then someone said, “We…I have to…I’m running as soon as they let us out of here.”

  “Really?” Vin said. “They’ll catch you before you get ten feet away and they ain’t going to play nice when that happens.”

  At that point, the truck began to move. Davie pushed his fingers through the wires separating him from Vin, and felt Vin grip them. It gave him a sense of comfort, knowing he was there.